


all the bright stars

by conchorde



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Heist, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, juno is just trying to finish school but Someone shows up and makes his life More Difficult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conchorde/pseuds/conchorde
Summary: No one turned up in Oldtown unless they could help it. It was just about the last stop in Hyperion City before the radiation-poisoned desert that was outside the dome.In Juno's last semester of high school, Peter Nureyev arrived in Oldtown.[Or; Juno ignores his homework, Benzaiten makes a friend, and Peter ends up stealing something he didn't mean to.]





	1. lessons not learned

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about a certain detective and his upbringing, and how that would have changed if Peter Nureyev turned up in Juno's life a few years earlier, and that brought me to this fic. Enjoy!
> 
> Shoutout to [HaylWritesIGuess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaylWritesIGuess/) for encouraging this nonsense, even if it is long form sadness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno tries to pay attention in class. Someone new arrives. Unrelated: Juno has trouble paying attention in class.

In Hyperion City, autumn was a brief wish of a month and a half. It didn’t get all golden and picturesque like Earth nor create great monsoons like a few of the Outer Rim planets. Mars was just one big radiation-filled dust storm outside the cracked Hyperion City dome. And inside that neon-lit dome with its impossible skyline that graced half of the Martian postcards across the galaxy? The same old back alley deals with blasters drawn; the same housing schemes and corrupt politicians. Just a little colder, was all. Just a little bit meaner.

Juno pulled his thin jacket tighter around his shoulders as they walked the blocks back to Oldtown High, not really listening to hard to what Mick and Sasha were bickering about today. He felt his feet drag along the cracked cement, his thoughts swirling and dark as a dust storm.

He’d had better days.

Autumn on Mars had coincided with the beginning of the spring term that year. Mars still used the Earth calendar after all this time, much to the chagrin of Mick. Clinging to those old traditions really hadn’t done Hyperion City much good in its handful of hundreds of years of existence.

What a way to end what he hoped was his last year in the hell that was Oldtown High, right? A steep descent into cold days and colder nights. Living in Oldtown made autumn worse—when didn’t Oldtown make everything worse?—because there were never enough creds to go around. The rising solar bills to keep the heating on in their shitty apartment, the uptick in Ma’s drinking, warm enough clothes for Ben and him. The list went on.

(Juno had given Ben a handful of creds when classes started for the semester to buy himself a new coat—Juno was pretty sure the lining was literally falling out of his old one—ignoring his protestations that their birthday was months away. Juno didn’t ask Ben to get him a jacket too, didn’t tell Ben where he got the creds, and didn’t tell Ben what happened when Ma found out he had taken them from her dresser drawer.

Juno was good that. At hiding things that shouldn’t bother anyone but himself.)

He tuned back into their conversation—ignoring the growling of his stomach from eating only a protein bar for lunch and the thoughts in his mind—just as Sasha shot a look over to Mick. Juno was well acquainted with that look. “I still can’t believe you flunked out of Ancient Martian History _already_ , Mick. It’s the third week of the semester!”

Juno scuffed his shoes along the street. “Mick’s never studied for a test in his life, Sash.”

“Hey, I tried this time around, J! I really did! It’s just those dates, J. And those names. But I did study!”

“Sure you did, Mick. And I’m going to be valedictorian,” Juno shot back. Sasha rolled her eyes at that suggestion. It _was_ an apt comparison, Juno wagered. Two impossible things.

Amazement crossed Mick’s face at Juno’s words. Say what he would about Mick Mercury, but Mick’s unending optimism really was something to contend with. “What? J, that’s amazing!”

Sasha scoffed. “Juno clearly didn’t mean he’s going to be valedictorian, because he’s not. I am.”

Juno glanced at her as Mick deflated and then re-inflated at the idea of his _other_ best friend becoming top of the class. “And how is the Dark Matters entrance interview going these days? Still going to be valedictorian even though you’re missing every third day of class?”

“Oh, don’t be bitter, Juno,” said Sasha sharply. “You know I was right about signing up to take Ancient Martian History. Just because I dropped it to spend time on…other matters, doesn’t mean it won’t be helpful for you.”

“And by ‘other matters’, you mean Dark Matters,” replied Juno, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. He wasn’t resentful. He _wasn’t_. Sasha was just going to get out of Hyperion City like she had always wanted and Juno was going to be stuck in Oldtown like he had always suspected.

Sasha’s lips were tight. “I’m afraid I can’t say. But you should stick it out—I’m almost certain Ancient Martian History will be on the HCPD questionnaire. Registering to take the course was a good idea, Juno.”

Juno fought the urge to cross his arms. “I still think a free period would have been more helpful.”

“Just because you don’t want to be in school doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be there,” Mick said softly.

Juno just about stopped dead in his tracks then and there. “Are you turning into Sasha, Mick? I’ve never heard you give a good piece of advice in my life.”

“I mean,” Mick continued, “I don’t want to be there either and I don’t think we should go, so—”

“And there’s the Mick Mercury I know.”

Sasha pushed past them. “Come on, you idiots. Lunch is almost over and I am _not_ missing Quantum Trigonometry.”

Oldtown High loomed off in the distance, only two blocks away. Home of too many drug deals and too many missed assignments, and honestly the last place Juno wanted to be. But there was no nudging Sasha when she set her mind to something, so in the three went.

* * *

Juno saw him first.

He didn’t mean to, not really. He had always been too observant for his own good. His mother had reminded him of _that_ particular antidote many times, standing over him with her hand raised. But Ma’s lesson had never worn in, no matter how many times she had taught it. He still noticed things. Usually against his better judgement, because noticing anything in Oldtown was against anyone’s better judgement.

So, yeah, Juno noticed things. He had good eyes. Sharp eyes, if he was feeling modest, and sharpshooter’s eyes, if he wasn’t.

Hell, if he combined his skill of going against his better judgement with his knack for making every hard-earned shot from his blaster and his non-existent self-preservation, he might make a halfway decent detective in the HCPD one day. That’s what he told himself on those neon nights in Hyperion City, anyway, when he was laying sleepless on the bottom bunk in his and Ben’s tiny room or hiding out in the sewers. A halfway decent cop. Maybe.

So, Juno noticed and _damn_ if it wasn’t hard to not notice him.

Tall and lean in all the ways that mattered. Dressed in clothes that could have passed for “Oldtown, born and raised” but not if you knew where to look. A sharp jaw, a set smile. Eyes wide behind old Earth-style horn-rimmed glasses. Standing in the doorway, just out of sight of the teacher, hand poised to knock.

Juno may have been too observant for his own good, but that didn’t make him pay attention in class.

Mick, sitting next to him as always, insisting that he be there even though he had officially failed the course thus far, nudged Juno’s elbow. “J,” he whispered. Or tried, anyway. Mick wasn’t very good at a lot of things, and whispering was near the top of that list. “Are you going to answer Mx. Kaitzen’s question or should I make something up?”

 _Damn_. Juno hurriedly glanced up and caught Mx. Kaitzen’s eye. They were glaring at him with the same level of annoyance they would give a burnt-out light. Juno liked Mx. Kaitzen. He really did. They cared incredibly about Ancient Martian History, even though Juno could swear he had learned it all two years ago in Standard Martian History.

Mx. Kaitzen tutted with annoyance. “What was the most recently discovered ancient Martian artifact, Mr. Steel? We only have a few minutes left of class. I’m not going to ask you a third time.”

His mother had told him to hold his tongue, to not fight back, to answer her questions truthfully the first time. He knew he was smirking as he shot off, “Was it last week’s essay?”

Not to feign ignorance or hide his fear in layers of sarcasm and irreverence? That was another lesson he would never learn.

The teacher rolled their eyes as the class snickered around Juno. “No, Juno. I’m afraid that’s one artifact that time may never uncover, considering you never turned it in.”

Juno sank a little lower in his seat, feeling a hot flush of shame as the classroom tittered at their response, and swallowed back his biting retort.

Mx. Kaitzen glanced around the room, hands on their hips, looking _very_ ready to move on. “Anyone else? The Martian artifact, uncovered last week by Olympus Mons?”

“That would be the Death Mask of Grimpotheuthis,” said a voice as smooth as butter, and _he_ strolled in. Juno’s classmates shifted in their seats, and Juno couldn’t exactly blame them. He was all arms and legs and smoothed back hair. “Uncovered by Croesus Kanagawa in the desert just outside of Olympus Mons. It went missing shortly afterwards, if I recall correctly.”

He was all right to look at, all things considered. Juno wouldn’t have complained if he could have stared at him all day.

“That’s correct,” Mx. Kaitzen said, blinking at the newcomer who was gliding to the front of the classroom. “I’m sorry, who—?”

“Rex Glass,” he said, stretching out a hand and showing shark’s teeth with his smile. If that smile was directed at Juno, well, _damn_. He wasn’t sure what he would do. “I’m sorry, the lovely woman at the office said to come down to room J-15, is this the right place?”

Mx. Kaitzen seemed a little flustered, but shook Glass’s hand quickly. Juno had never seen them flustered in all three years at Oldtown High. “Of course, Mr. Glass, this is Ancient Martian History. I’m sorry, I can’t say I was expecting a new student today.”

“Ah,” Glass said, glancing at the classroom with bright eyes, “I’m afraid the secretary was updating the latest roster as I was walking down. I’m a bit of a newcomer to the area and she said it was all right if I just went to class today and we could worry about the paperwork later. I’ll just take this seat here, if it’s all the same to you, Mx. Kaitzen.”

Glass sat down in the empty seat to Juno’s right, flashed him a smile (no, Juno did _not_ melt a little), and expectantly pulled out a tiny notebook from his pocket.

Their teacher blinked again, still recovering, before they continued. “As Rex was just saying, the Mask of Grimpotheuthis was the most recent ancient Martian artifact to be recovered. Recovered by Croesus Kanagawa, it was thought to have been used in Martian rituals. What it was used for we won’t go into, since it’s a rather gruesome detail.”

Glass leaned over from Juno’s right, and Juno stopped paying attention to the lecture completely. Glass whispered conspiratorially, “The Death Mask of Grimpotheuthis split the faces of Martians into two. Let’s hope it doesn’t end up splitting you in two, because that would be a travesty.”

And without thinking, Juno whispered back, “I’m already a twin, so I hope it isn’t too much of a travesty.”

Out of the corner of Juno’s eye, he saw Glass smirk. “Certainly not.”

Mx. Kaitzen continued on, and Juno attempted to take haphazard, halfhearted notes after that little exchange (Juno could beat himself up about it later, he figured, because what the _hell_ was wrong with him?). They were even more halfhearted than Mick’s notes, he was sure, and he knew Mick didn’t even have a piece of paper out.

Because that smile. Those _teeth_. And what was that? Some otherworldly scent of cologne and _god_ , he really was sitting right next to Juno, wasn’t he, and had he really just flirted with him?

How was he supposed to pass this class now?

Unable to stop himself, Juno glanced over to Glass’s notebook, expecting to see meticulous notes and cramped handwriting covering the page. Glass seemed the type to have done the three-week backlog of research for the class, at least. He had strolled into the hardest history course offered at Oldtown High, after all—why did Juno let Sasha convince him to sign up?—and knew the answer to whatever Mx. Kaitzen was going on about.

Juno saw Glass’s notebook lying just to the right of Juno’s elbow, and upon the paper were…doodles.

That was the best explanation for it, at least. Scribbles covering the paper, drawn in a messy, looping hand. Juno wasn’t sure he could even make out any distinct shapes, to be honest. They could have been notes, but if they were, they were the shittiest notes Juno had ever seen. And he had tried to help Mick study on numerous occasions.

Juno very suddenly wanted Glass to draw him something.

He squashed that thought as fast as he could. Or tried to, anyway. He didn’t deserve nice things. He knew that. He got shitty secondhand coats and stale protein bars for lunch and friends who were going on to bigger and better things than he could ever dream of (Mick notwithstanding).

The final bell of the day rang suddenly, shrill and loud. Juno jumped, tearing his eyes away from Glass’s notebook and back up to the teacher.

“That will be all for today,” Mx. Kaitzen continued over the shuffle of students putting tablets and paper into their bags. “Remember we have that quiz tomorrow!”

Juno slowly collected his notes, trying very, _very_ hard to not look at Glass tearing the page of doodles out of his notebook and putting the paper in one of his pockets. Damn, he had a lot of pockets.

Mick turned to him, a wide grin on his face. “Wow, J, that was something, wasn’t it!”

“What do you mean?” Juno asked, shoving his notebook into his backpack.

“That new kid! Rex Stone or whatever his name was!”

Juno saw Glass shift out of the corner of his eye. “He’s right here, Mick,” Juno muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” said that same voice, smooth as butter, sailing over from Juno’s right side. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced.”

Juno turned, raising one eyebrow. “Yeah? Get used to it, Glass. Not everyone is so pleased to have you here as Mx. Kaitzen.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Juno wished he could take them back, but they hung in the air between them. Stale and biting.

Add rudeness to the list of Lessons Juno Had Never Learned.

“Well,” Glass said, taken aback, and Juno was somehow pleased to have put that expression on his face regardless. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr….?”

And Juno couldn’t leave it at that, could he? “Steel. Juno Steel.”

That smile was back. That that sharp, fox’s smile, and all coherent thoughts left Juno’s head for a moment. “I’m pleased to meet you, Juno Steel, and I am _very_ pleased to have this class with you.”

“I’m—” butted in Mick, before the teacher called over, “Mick Mercury, can I see you at my desk?”

Mick grinned, grabbing his bag. “See you around, Rex, Juno!”

And then it was just the two of them.

Juno took a steadying breath, swinging his backpack onto his shoulder. “How did you know about the Death Mask of…whatever, anyway? Are you some kind of specialist or something? Because Oldtown really isn’t the place.”

Glass laughed, a short sweet laugh. “Hardly, Juno. I’m here to learn, same as you. Here to finish my last semester of school, in fact.”

“Hell of a place to pick to finish out school,” Juno said, shoving his hands into his pockets, bitterness seeping into his voice.

“Wasn’t exactly my choice, now was it?” Glass replied lightly, and Juno knew _exactly_ how that went. No one turned up in Oldtown unless they could help it. It was just about the last stop in Hyperion City before the radiation-poisoned desert that was just outside the dome.

Juno nodded, and skillfully changed the subject as they walked out of J-15 and into the busy hallway. “What else are you taking? I know a couple people that can point you in the right direction. If you want. Since you’re new and all.”

“That would be wonderful, Juno,” Glass said, appeasing Juno’s rising nerves. “Now, where did I put that list?”

Glass pulled out his pockets, handing Juno a plethora of items without asking. Alcohol wipes, scraps of paper with an array of doodles, three lip stains of varying colors (one was a color Juno swore he had never seen before), a lighter, two pairs of earrings, a switchblade, six pens. Juno couldn’t keep track after that; he had no idea how Glass kept it all in his pockets.

“Oh, sorry, Juno,” said Glass sharply, and nimbly plucked the switchblade back out of Juno’s hands. “You won’t—?”

“It’s Oldtown,” Juno shrugged, trying to keep ahold of all of the items. “I’ve seen worse.”

Glass tilted a knowing eyebrow. He pulled out a few more items before he unearthed a folded paper with an embossed header Juno recognized well from disciplinary notes addressed to Ma. Notes that were all torn up and tossed in the trash far before he stepped in the doorway of his house. Not that Ma would have cared either way.

“Here we are! Thank you, Juno,” Glass said brightly, and carefully tucked all of the items back into his pockets.

“You know,” Juno said as Glass took the objects back one by one. “You could get a backpack like the rest of us.”

“Backpacks are impractical,” he said without elaborating, and unfolded the paper from the office with a flourish. “It looks like I have Ancient Martian History—oh, that’s a given, Juno, don’t look at me like that—” Juno wasn’t quite sure what look he was giving Glass, but he’d gladly give it again. “Quantum Trigonometry, Theory of Interdimensional Travel, Advanced Biology, and Parkour.”

That was quite a list. A very impressive list. He said instead, “Parkour? They still teach that?”

“I’m paraphrasing, Juno, it appears to be some basic movement class,” Glass replied effortlessly, and looked up expectantly. “Well?”

Juno blinked. “Right. Um. My friend Sasha is in Quant Trig, but you just missed that. And she’s a lot, honestly, so I’m not sure if—”

“Oh, if you’re any indication, I’m sure everyone on Mars is lovely.”

Juno felt a sudden heat rise on his face. “Do you have Movement next?” Glass glanced down at the paper and nodded. Juno shifted his weight nervously, and continued, “Well, my brother is in that class—he looks like me—and it’s over by the gym. Do you know how to get there or…?”

“I think I can manage, Juno. It’s just down the long hall and to the right, yes?” Glass asked, folding the paper back up. “And if he looks like you, I’m sure he will be very hard to miss indeed.”

“Okay,” Juno stuttered, not quite sure how to respond. “If you’re good, then I should probably get to my next class. Unless you need—”

“I’m sure I can manage it,” Glass replied smoothly, and Juno was hit with the sudden realization that Glass had never needed his help at all. “I’ll see you tomorrow in history, then? Unless we have any more classes together today?

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Juno said, running a hand through his hair. “I have an English class next, and my last hour is a free period. Cheating the system and all that.”

At Juno’s words, Glass got a little twinkle in his eye that Juno swore he wasn’t imagining. “Cheating the system, you say? I’ll have to see how you do it, Juno.”

Juno’s name wasn’t a gift. He had heard his mother yell it from the other end of their apartment too many times to count; heard his brother shout it as they darted down a street; heard Mick shorten it to just the first consonant and Sasha elongate the two vowels for all they were worth. But Glass said it in a way Juno had never heard before _._ Rex Glass said Juno’s name like it was a gift he would cherish for days on end, and Juno wanted to hear Glass say it for every hour of those days.

The bell rang again, startling both of them.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late,” Juno said hurriedly, thinking of the four flights of stairs he had to climb and the hallways he would have to zigzag down to reach his Mythology classroom. He turned to go. “See you around, Glass?”

“See you tomorrow, Juno.”

Not sparing a second glance—though he wanted to—Juno sprinted up the nearest staircase, raced down the locker-lined hallways, and breezed through the door with seconds to spare.

Juno thought of Rex Glass and how his lips carefully pronounced the two syllables of his name for the entire next class period.


	2. tuck and roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets Benten.

Mars was different, Peter had decided, from the other planets he had visited.

Sure, the heists were new. When had he ever stolen ancient artifacts before? (Wait, no there was that one time over in the Alpha Centauri system a few months back. _Right_.) The skylines of Olympus Mons and Hyperion City were novel, of course. The radiation-filled dust storms, the lights of the cities reflecting onto the impossible domes nestled into the rugged landscape, the accents in the voices he heard bustling down the street. Those changed every time he fled to a new planet—the weather, the cities, the people.

But Mars, Peter had found in a few short weeks, had this intense desperation. It permeated the actions of every citizen on its surface. A certain determination of _I’m going to live despite the odds_. Of _who cares what they think?_ and _screw everyone and everything_.

Peter Nureyev had always had a similar desperation deep under his skin. Blame his inner teenage revolutionary, but Peter lived moment-to-moment. He had lived like every moment was going to be his last, and he’d be damned if he went out before he could be remembered. Before his actions could be painted across the endless stars.

He had always lived in either immense decadence or abject poverty. There had never been any in-between. Living in Hyperion City, renting a tiny room on the outskirts of the urban jungle, he was a little closer to the latter than the former. It felt like home in a way no planet had since Brahma.

Peter was sure that was in no way connected to Juno Steel. It had just been a while since he found someone that clicked for him, Peter told himself. That could keep up with him. That also had a mind that went a mile a minute.

Benzaiten Steel was a different story. Same coin, other side.

“I can’t _believe_ you landed that flip off the high bars!” said a voice that was so like Juno’s and so different. “That was _wild_!”

“Beginner’s luck?” Peter asked, chuckling. So what if he had showed off a little? Peter never knew how to turn down an audience, not really. Mag had tried to teach him, but to no avail ( _lesson one of thieving: blend in_ , Mag had whispered in the back of his head the moment Peter’s hands left the bars, but it was hard to listen to his words these days).

“To quote my brother: ‘I don’t believe that for a second’,” Ben shot back in a poor imitation of Juno’s scowl, laughter coating his words. It really was a poor likeness—he wouldn’t be fooling anyone in bars on Amaterasu—but Peter knew it was made in jest. In the way siblings made fun of each other, he assumed. He’d never had siblings. Or he had never known if he had siblings. _That was more accurate_ , he noted with a pang of what could be estimated to be longing for something he couldn’t know he missed. “I mean, where did you even learn that?”

 _Mag told me to tuck and roll and then pushed me off progressively taller buildings until I got it right,_ Peter wanted to say. _He demonstrated once and let me figure out the rest_. _It only took one broken wrist and five falls until I could land without a hand out to catch me._

He wanted to trust Benzaiten Steel, and not just because he shared the same face as his brother. He wanted, well, a friend, for once. People his age had those, right?

He probably could trust Ben, he wagered with quick math, quick social calculations of _what secrets can I give?_ and _what secrets are safer staying locked away behind my ribs_? But he figured old habits died hard, and just let a small smile and a shrug answer in his stead. His _father figure_ turned _betrayer_ turned _first man I killed because I let his emotions get the better of me_ wasn’t exactly someone he liked to bring up in casual conversation.

Ben shook his head disbelievingly. “It was insane. Taking Movement is supposed to make you an expert at moving—go figure, right?—but I’m three semesters in and I can still barely pirouette.”

“Hey, your pirouette was easily the best one I’ve seen since I got to Hyperion City,” Peter continued amicably, and the two of them headed down the corridor. Throngs of high school students surged around them, carrying on brief conversations between classes. Brief flashes of romance between the lockers; brief pictures of stress and love and friendship. Playing at being adults, all of them. What would Peter have given to have had that opportunity?

Back on Brahma, before Mag, Peter saw students everywhere. Walking down the sidewalks with backpacks slung over shoulders or studying in coffee shops, hands gripping hair in stress. Sure, it made them easy marks—who would pay attention to a scrawny kid with nimble fingers from the streets when there was an essay due in three hours?—but there was something _more_ about that atmosphere. Something enticing, something Peter had found he hungered after.

(Peter had taught himself to read out of an unwatched textbook on Outer Rim politics pilfered from a café table.)

So when the opportunity arose to go to Mars, to take on that long job, Peter couldn’t turn down the chance to experience it himself. Sure, he had sat in on his fair share of college lectures and government seminars—a good stepping stone to any heist was information, and if it came along with a contact he could make swoon with a bat of his eyelashes, all the better—but he had never been a student before. He had only coveted it. A traditional childhood, with living parents and a locker and birthdays and dances and homework and _all that_.

Peter had learned in his years in this universe, definitely. How to land from a fall and not break his ankles; where in the body to stab with a knife to ensure a quick death; how to walk silently in a place he wasn’t wanted. He knew how to seduce someone, and quickly; how to research and execute a heist that could go off with only a few casualties, only a few knives slid between ribs. Peter Nureyev knew a great many things, most of which would disgust his now-classmates on a good day or terrify on a bad day, but he had never truly been to school.

They had reached the cafeteria after a few twists and turns, and Peter saw Ben’s eyes light up. “Juno,” Ben called over the din. “Over here!”

Across the crowded, sticky room, Peter caught sight of a hunched figure with a perpetual scowl leaning against the wall. His long coat was rolled at the wrists, and it looked so threadbare that Peter was quite sure it did nothing to protect him from the sim-wind that blew unimpeded through Hyperion City. If Peter suddenly had an urge to wrap his arms around Juno’s shoulders, it was only to provide Juno an extra layer of protection against the elements, he told himself. Not because he wanted to know exactly how Juno’s body fit against his, if he ran warm or cool, if his lean arms would feel as muscular as they seemed if they were touching Peter’s chest. No, not at all.

Faded backpack hanging off one shoulder, arms crossed, Juno looked ready to punch the first person who crossed his path before he heard his brother’s voice. His whole figure shifted as they walked over. The scowl lessened; the worry lines Peter could already see working their way into the soft skin by his eyes deepened.

“Hey, Benten,” said Juno in a gruff greeting, and his soft timbre of a voice sent shivers down Peter’s spine.

Where Juno was a solid sentry, ear piercings flashing in the fluorescent light, Benzaiten was practically bouncing. Beaming from ear to ear, Ben Steel was, as he pulled Peter by the elbow over to his brother.

“Have you met Rex yet, Super Steel?” Ben asked his brother, shaking Peter’s arm at Juno.

Peter watched a soft scarlet work its way into Juno’s cheeks at the nickname. “Yeah, earlier. We have history together.”

“Dang, you met him first? Can’t I do anything first?” Ben pouted.

“You were born first, Benten. You rub that in my face every chance you get.”

“Ha haaa,” Ben said, drawing out his laugh. He practically danced around Juno. “And now you’re rubbing it in your own face.”

Juno’s face was a mirror of Ben’s with a ten-second delay. He pouted, that same lip peeking forwards, that same crease in-between his eyebrows. Peter wanted to kiss it. “We’re twins anyway, Benten. It doesn’t matter who was born first.”

“Yeah, but it was me,” Ben said smugly, before turning the conversation back to Peter like nothing had happened. “Glass and I have Movement together—“

“I know,” interjected Juno, but Ben continued.

“—and he did this flip today in class! I’ve never seen anything like it. He said it was beginner’s luck but that sounds fake, doesn’t it?”

“All right,” Peter said quickly, because it _wasn’t_ beginner’s luck, “it’s not that hard. You just have to tuck your shoulders in a little.”

“ _What_ ,” Ben deadpanned, and faced Peter. “You have to show me. Right now. I can skip Latin.”

“Don’t skip Latin,” Juno bemoaned to ignoring ears. “You’re actually good at that one.”

“Hey,” Ben shot back without thinking, not breaking eye contact with Peter, “you skip Mythology all the time.”

“That’s different. It’s boring,” Juno replied with the same level of halfhearted ire, and Peter got the feeling there was more he would have said on the subject of him skipping class if Peter wasn’t standing with them.

With a jolt, Peter found he wanted to know every word that Juno would have said. He wanted Juno to trust him enough to say what he would say around only family.

Ben still wasn’t looking at Juno. It was like he was having two completely separate conversations: one with his brother and one with Peter. “Well?” Ben asked Peter expectantly, and his stomach knotted for a moment before he remembered. _Right_. His flip.

What could it hurt, right? It wasn’t like the Neptunian authorities were looking for a teenage boy in the slums of Mars for robbing the Museum of Antiquities. But, those pesky old habits. “You’re taking Latin?” he asked instead, and Ben was off again.

“Yeah! It’s super interesting and Juno thought I’d hate it, but it turns out dance movements have a lot of Latin basis! So I knew more than I thought.”

“I took some Latin at my old school,” Peter lied easily, thinking of all the hours Mag had him go over the verb tenses so he could decode an old text he wanted Peter to pawn off, his eyes growing heavy in the dim lighting of whatever hole-in-the-wall they had been hiding out in. “It is surprisingly useful.”

“ _Finally_ , someone gets me,” Ben gushed, and Peter felt a smile work its way across his lips. He’d missed this, the easy praise of someone recognizing his talents for what they were. “Juno thought it was going to be a ‘waste of your time, Benten, what would Ma say,’” he mocked in that bad imitation of Juno’s voice, and Peter saw Juno glower, “but it’s going to be useful, I swear.”

“Because learning a language that was dead long before Mars was colonized is _useful_ ,” Juno retorted, and Peter got the understanding the Juno couldn’t leave well enough alone if his life depended on it.

Ben frowned. “It’s not like anything you’re taking is going to be _useful_. Why would a cop in the HCPD need to know about ancient artifacts?”

“How the hell would I know?” Juno shot off, something deadly simmering just below the surface.

“Exactly, Juno,” Ben countered. “You wouldn’t. Just like you wouldn’t know if Latin would be helpful for me.”

In a flash, Juno’s scowl was back in full force. “I have to go,” he said shortly, and pushed roughly past Peter. His heart jumped a tiny bit at that contact; he felt his shoulder burn.

 _Get it together, Nureyev_.

“Juno,” Ben called out again after his brother’s receding form, “don’t you want to see Glass’s flip?”

“I’ve seen enough, thanks,” Juno bit off, not turning around. “See you at home, Benten.”

Benzaiten exhaled for a long moment. “Sorry about him,” he offered to Peter. Like that was that, and he would speak no more of it, but all Peter wanted to do was speak more of Juno. To see him banter with his brother and to see that permanent grimace be lifted from his cheeks. Peter _wanted_ —it was his best and worst quality, and didn’t he know it. “I should probably get to Latin, Glass,” Ben continued, “but I do want see that flip again sometime.”

The smallest of smiles cracked Peter’s lips. _What the hell_. He could spare making a few friends. And if those said friends happened to be directly related to Juno? Well, all the better.

“I don’t see why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be super busy for the next few weeks, so updates will be sporadic at best for a bit! Thanks for sticking with me.


	3. deep red and swirling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After class, Juno and Peter go home. Also featuring: a blaster, a sandstorm, and blueprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! It's been a bit. Thanks for bearing with me! I'm hoping to update semi-regularly from here on out, so here's hoping life doesn't get too in the way.
> 
> (Also, please know that my unintentional motto while writing this was Make It Sad™.)

A dust storm was picking up on the horizon as Juno roughly shouldered the door open. Deep red and fuming, ready to engulf the Hyperion City dome with a stinging touch. In a few short hours, those fine grains of sand would work their way through the cracked dome over Oldtown and into the crumbling apartment complexes, nestling into the walls and plates and beds. Would brush the rundown buildings with a crimson stain like a setting sun inlaid in the floorboards. Would dye fingertips and hearts with that same unforgiving desert; a color so like blood that even bars of rough soap wouldn’t be able to remove the blemishes.

(Juno could swear everything he owned had a thin layer of dust settled on top. The street sweepers never made a real effort on this side of Hyperion, after all. You couldn’t wash out the filth of Oldtown—Juno knew; Juno had tried so many times, but whenever he raised his voice or clenched his fists he felt Ma in his veins and that Oldtown wariness in his bones and he _hated_ it—so why bother?)

Juno’s heart pulsed in his ears as he strode away from Oldtown High, putting as much distance between himself and his free period in the library—his thoughts were already swimming without the names of ancient goddesses from his Mythology textbook. He needed to clear his head, goddamnit, because he was playing the same scene over and over in his mind, looping it back like stuck tape: Benten’s smug expression and Glass’s all-knowing glance. The way he almost _glowed_ when Ben started talking about his goddamn flip. That jolt in Juno’s chest when Glass’s lips curved into a smile at something Ben said.

Because of course Ben and Glass would be friends. Of _course._ Mr. Galaxy’s Best Smile and Mr. Ancient Martian Artifacts Expert would go together like two cloned peas in a pod. How could he even think Glass, the transplant to Oldtown who carried himself a little too much like royalty, would want to get to know _him_? Juno Steel, the disaster who didn’t know what the _hell_ an HCPD cop would need to know; who couldn’t even protect his own brother, let alone anyone else; who was never going to leave the rundown slums of Hyperion City.

(Too many times, Ma had told him he would never amount to anything. That he didn’t _deserve_ to amount to anything. At least one of her lessons must have worn in like water through granite, because etched onto his heart, Juno knew it was true.)

The sim-wind was biting. Even though the dust storm was outside the dome, he swore grains of sand were already working their way into his hair and the creases of his clothes. With a sigh, he popped the collar of the long coat he had carefully pilfered from the O’Flaherty thrift shop down on the far end of Oldtown and shoved his chin down into his chest. He couldn’t keep the sand out forever, but he could goddamn well try.

Juno couldn’t get that sharp smile out of his head.  Those bright eyes, those nimble fingers. Couldn’t get rid of the memory of Benten’s easy familiarity with Glass.

If his eyes were stinging, he could swear it was just the sand.

His ten-cred shoes traced a well-worn path from Oldtown High to a certain boarded-up alleyway in the outskirts of town. With a foothold here, a hand cast over a metal beam there, Juno easily hopped over the wooden crates into that half-forgotten, dead-end alleyway. Littered with grimy trashcans and beer bottles, the fresh scent of cigarette smoke and day-old vomit rose under Juno’s nostrils. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but goddamn if it didn’t feel good to be there.

Gingerly picking through the trash on the ground— it was safer to not linger too long doing anything in Oldtown—Juno found a few empty bottles and lined them up on the makeshift shelf on the back wall of the alleyway.

(A few months back, during a brief stint in the first semester where Ma had been particularly...not pleased with him, Juno, Sasha and Mick had fashioned it out of few discarded scraps of wood. Well, Mick had tried to help, but he had somehow ended up nailing his own shirt to the wall. While Juno had rolled his eyes and unpinned him from the wood, Sasha had jokingly designated Mick their supervisor for the day to get him out of their hair. They only heard the end of that when Sasha threatened to stop speaking to Mick until after graduation, because Sasha always meant every word she said and Mick probably had no idea when graduation would be.)

Crossing the alley quickly, Junk pulled a gray brick loose from its mortar about halfway down the wall of the old apartment that bordered the alley. Without looking, Juno reached into the darkness of the hollow left behind. With a quick, self-indulgent smile, his hand closed on the cool metal of his blaster.

Juno rolled a half-spent card into the gun, raised it, and fired off seven shots in five seconds. He didn’t have to check to know he hit every single bottle dead in the middle.

But that wasn’t good enough—how could seven bullseyes in five second be good enough?—because he still saw Glass’s smirk every time he closed his eyes.

Juno didn’t get nice things. He knew this. Not new coats nor new friends, not full stomachs nor happy families. Certainly not the brush of Glass’s lips on his. But maybe, he told himself in the same voice of dreams, just _maybe_ , he could have this.

So he lined up the bottles, broken necks and all, and raised the blaster a second time.

Seven bullseyes. Five seconds. The thought of one sharp, sharp smile.

Juno lined them up and fired again. And again. And again. So many times and so quickly all he could see was the glass flying, all he could hear was the blaster fire, all he could think of was whether _this shot_ or _this shot_ would make him good enough. Good enough to finish school. Good enough for Benzaiten’s hug of approval. Good enough to get into the HCPD or good enough to prove that there was still something in the world worth saving. Good enough to go on taking up space in that goddamn city when there were other, better people out there. Good enough for filling meals, for Ma to stop drinking, for Glass to—

“You think those bottles have had enough?” asked a voice behind him.

Juno whirled, blaster held out. Against his better judgment, he bit off, “They’ll have had enough when I’m done with them.”

A woman clad in all black, her turtleneck rolled at the wrists, hopped down from the crates stacked above him. “Careful where you point that thing, Juno. You might take somebody’s eye out.”

Juno exhaled shakily, lowering the gun. “Jesus, Sasha. Warn a lady first.”

“I did,” Sasha said, shrugging. “You just weren't paying attention.”

“What? I didn’t—“

“Oh, do keep up Juno.” Sasha waved a dismissive hand at him. “Dark Matters always gives a warning.”

Juno fought the urge to cross his arms. “You’re not a Dark Matters agent, Sash.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

He glared in her direction and turned on his heel, going to reset the bottles. “How did you find me? Is it just you?”

Juno heard her sharp laugh as he gathered the remnants of his targets, picking them up carelessly enough to cut his hands. “I just followed the sounds of teenage angst through the streets.”

Juno faced her quickly, an argument building on his tongue in an instant. “I’ve never had teenage—”

Sasha shot _that_ look at him. “I helped you build this, Juno, what did you take me for?”

Juno swallowed the rest of his words. “Right. Of course.”

“And no,” Sasha continued, her stare still boring holes into Juno’s chest. “Mick’s here, too.”

There was a clatter behind them, up on the top of the crude barricade, and a muted, “Hey, JJ! A little help, buddy?”

Sasha looked a little apologetic, if she could even make that expression. Juno saw it so rarely he’d wager five creds that Dark Matters training had taught her to fake it. “He _was_ right behind me.”

“Mick’s never right behind you, Sasha,” Juno retorted, sliding easily into their banter. “Don’t let him fool you—he’s always at least three steps back and eying the latest hovercycle.”

Juno swore she rolled her eyes. “Just help me get him down.”

In a tangle of misplaced limbs and a string of curses that would impress even an Outer Rim soldier, Sasha and Juno pulled Mick out of the pile of crates and fell into the alley.

The back of Juno’s head connected with the filthy ground of the alleyway, Mick landing on top of him, making no effort to stop his fall since he probably figured _hey, J is here to cushion me, how nice of him_ like the idiot he was. For a moment, Juno’s vision danced with stars. He was brought roughly back to Mars with Mick gracefully shoving his elbow in Juno’s ear. His knee was Juno’s sternum, his boot on Juno’s kneecap and Juno could _swear_ he could already feel a concussion building.

“Goddamnit, Mercury,” Juno groaned, shoving Mick off of him. Juno rolled onto his back, feeling what would probably soon be bruises already starting to throb. He stared up at the fading afternoon sky for a half moment, that sky that always had that neon-blue tinge to it, no matter the time. “Can’t you do anything yourself?”

“Clearly not,” Sasha said, unfazed. She was already standing— _did she even fall?_ “Mick’s never done anything in his life by himself.”

“That’s true!” Mick said unhelpfully, and Juno couldn’t contain his groan. “Either you guys or my dad have always been there to help me out!”

Juno sat up after a moment, putting his elbows on his knees to glance at Mick. The man was a disaster. Juno knew this, but sometimes, Mick just solidified that fact. “The hell is wrong with you, Mercury.”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Mick continued, still laying on the ground and looking for all the world like he would stay there for the foreseeable future. “Sasha said we should go look for you.”

“What,” Juno deadpanned, pushing to his feet. “The hell is wrong with _you_ , Sasha.”

She raised one eyebrow at him. “Benzaiten said you stormed off after fourth period. We were worried about you, Juno.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t be,” Juno countered, turning his back. He picked up his blaster from where he discarded it and flipped the safety off. “I don’t need your pity.”

“We’re your friends, Juno,” Mick said behind him, standing. Juno tried to shake off that warm feeling that rose in his chest—he _didn’t_ need their pity. “We’re allowed to be worried about you.”

In lieu of a response, Juno raised the blaster and fired off seven shots at the bottles lined up on the shelf.

 “That’s really not helping your case,” Sasha said disapprovingly.

Seven shots, he counted mechanically, trying to control his pulsing heart, his clenching hands. He fired seven shots.

“J, come on,” Mick said behind him, but Juno almost didn’t hear it.

There were only six bullseyes.

Six bullseyes, six completely shattered bottles, and one, _one_ bottle that was just wobbling. That was just _now_ coming to a halt. Still intact.

He had missed.

Juno never missed.

“Seriously, Juno, this is ridiculous—”

Juno spun to face them, chest heaving. “I _told_ you, I don’t want your goddamn pity, Sasha. I’m doing just fine, okay?”

Mick looked hesitant. “I’m not sure I’d call that fine.”

“I am fine, Mercury. I am _fine_.”

Sasha scoffed. “Don’t get all defensive, Juno, we’re just trying to help.”

“Defensive?” Juno seethed. “Who are you calling defensive? I told you, I am doing perfectly _fine_. I don’t need your goddamn pity, all right? I don’t need it and I certainly don’t want it, so you can take your lousy concern and shove it straight up your—”

“JJ,” Mick said, and his hands were out in front of him. “Why don’t you calm—”

“I am perfectly—”

Sasha’s eyes were wide. “Juno, you’re scaring me.”

Both of their hands were out. Placating. Making themselves small. Juno knew that position all too well. Took that stance too often, shoving himself in front of his brother because _better Juno than Benzaiten_. Bracing for the hit he knew would inevitably come, bracing for the backhanded slap or the broken glass.

He had been waving his blaster around as he gesticulated, he realized in a moment that firmly settled his feet on the ground and his heart through his chest. Safety off, stun on. Or kill, he wasn’t sure—that indicator light on the blaster had been broken long before he found it discarded in the sewers, and it wasn’t like he had ever fired the gun at anything but half-broken cans and bottles.

He had been waving his blaster at his friends, at two of the most important people in his life, at the two of the three people in the world who might still care if he lived or died.

He stilled. “Sorry,” he mumbled, setting the gun down quickly.

Sasha exhaled. “It’s all right.”

“We were just concerned about you, JJ,” Mick said that piss-poor impression of a whisper that he was probably sure was practically unintelligible, “and when you started waving that blaster around—”

“I said I was sorry,” Juno said shortly, and a fresh wash of self-hatred cascaded over him.

“Anyway,” Sasha said thoughtfully, picking up Juno’s blaster with two fingers. “You missed a spot.”

She snapped the gun to her dominant hand, raised it, and shot the last bottle clean off the shelf.

“Oh, we get it, Sasha,” Juno said, half-bitterly, half-jokingly, trying to swallow back the raw fear that had risen in his chest after he had realized he was pointing a blaster at his friends. “You’re the best at everything.”

“The best at _everything_?” Amazement crossed Mick’s face, having already forgotten that Juno had just carelessly threatened his life.

A quick smile shot across her face. “Somebody’s got to be.”

* * *

It was past dark, the sands of the dust storm whipping against the Oldtown dome in full force, when Juno slipped into their small second story apartment.

He slid his worn key into the analog lock and turned the handle quietly, hearing the low beeping of the additional electronic lock opening. Juno barely dared to breathe as he opened the door. Inside, the small telescreen in the corner of the living room was on, the late-night Kanagawa special turned down low to murmurs. The cracked screen cast a faint blue, ever-changing light onto the scratched wooden floors. Onto the numerous bottles on the side table, onto the reclined, lightly snoring figure asleep on the loveseat in the corner.

Hand clapped over his mouth, shoes cast off and stocking feet on the cold floor, Juno crept from the door to the narrow hallway.

She didn’t stir once before Juno closed his bedroom door behind him.

The room wasn’t pitch dark, but it was a near thing. The forever neon lights from Hyperion Central snuck their fingers through the curtains covering the wide window, a little square of light landing on the wooden bunk bed and the pile of Ben’s dirty clothes in the corner (Juno’s was hidden under their bed). Juno blinked hard, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness.

“Don’t bother with the light,” said the sleep-touched voice of his brother from the top bunk. “It’s out again.”

Juno started. “Shit, Benten, did I wake you?”

“Nah, it’s just one of those nights,” came the tired reply.

Juno’s heart clenched minutely in his chest, because _if something happened Juno would never forgive himself._ “Did she—“

“Of course not,” Benten said softly, and the rest of his words, the _she would never because she has you_ , went unspoken.

Juno exhaled, tossing his backpack gently to the floor. _Thank god_. His mind immediately jumped to the next problem, already speculating where he could get a spare forty creds. He could handle the darkness, but if their generator went out too, it would be a progressively colder month, and Juno wasn’t sure if his toes would last in the Martian winter with no heat. “She forget to pay the electricity again?”

“It’s just the dust storm, Super Steel,” Ben replied, his voice muffled. Juno heard the rustle of blankets as he turned over. “They’ll be back on in a couple days.”

Juno nodded, and both crises averted for the time being, let the tiredness he had been keeping at bay seep into his bones. He pulled off his long coat, draping it over the chair in the corner. The rest of his clothes followed until he was down to his undershirt and boxers, and he gratefully crawled into bed, the bedspring creaking. Even those few hours without the heat on…Juno nestled himself deeper under the covers.

Juno was nearly asleep, the room having been silent for some time, when Ben spoke again. Tentatively. “You aren’t mad at me, are you, Super Steel?”

“Wha—” Juno started, his voice rough with almost-sleep. His eyes snapped open, finally adjusted to the darkness. He stared up at the boards at the bottom of Ben’s mattress, at the pictures drawn in a child’s scrawl of Andromeda and the Dragon, of Turbo. Those tens of drawings of Northstar’s characters made in the hopeful hand of their childhood (until they had learned better than to speak about Northstar in Sarah Steel’s house) always floated above him, in dreams. “No, never. Why?”

Junk heard Ben fidget in the bed above his. “You stormed off after class.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know what I mean,” Ben continued, his voice muted and low. “After Glass.”

Juno sighed. “I don’t want to get into it. It’s late, Ben. Get some sleep.”

Ben was silent for a moment, and Juno nearly drifted off again, thoughts of Andromeda and the Dragon and Glass and his blaster swirling in his head.

“What if I invited him to eat lunch with us?”

Well, damn. Juno was awake now. That same hot spike coursed through his chest. “I-I’m not—I mean—”

And Juno heard Ben laugh. A soft thing, that laugh. Controlled but joyful. So like Juno’s, when he let himself. “Shit, Super Steel, I’m not into him or anything. You know I’ve had a thing for Liesel since like sophomore year. It just think it’d be fun to get to know him. Show him around town and all that.”

Goddamn, that was a load off.

“What, you going to eat lunch in the cafeteria?” Juno joked, and he felt so much lighter. “That food is inedible a _good_ day.”

“Hey, somebody’s gotta teach him!” Ben exclaimed, and Juno threw his pillow up to hit him, laughing at Ben’s squeak of protest.

“If you go to the cafeteria for lunch, I swear he won’t be friends with you. Hell, _I_ wouldn’t be friends with you.”

Ben tossed Juno’s pillow back down to him, hitting Juno in the face. “You’ve got no choice but to be friends with me, Super Steel. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Juno shoved his pillow back under his head. “Go to sleep, you idiot.”

In the neon-lit darkness, as he heard Ben’s breathing even out, Juno allowed himself a small smile. Glass shouldn’t even give Juno the time of day if he asked, but his brother? Yeah, Benzaiten could become friends with Glass. And well, like Ben said, he was stuck with his brother forever.

* * *

The dust storm was settling over the Hyperion City dome, as red and swirling as the eye of the giant storm on Jupiter. It softened the sounds of the city, Peter thought, the same way that a fresh snowfall on Io dimmed the world just enough that all Peter would be able to hear was the crunch of his footsteps (and Mag’s whisper: _lesson one of thieving: a master thief makes no sound_ ). The cars driving by, the far-off blasterfire, the sirens and street gawkers, the already dimmed stars in the forever blue-tinged sky, all just a little muted.

No complaint from him, though. Tonight, he’d prefer the world a little muted. Shuttered into homes; neighbors not poking their noses too far into his window.

With a flourish, Peter laid out the blueprints on his dining room table. Hand drawn in a meticulous scrawl, these prints, generously provided by his employer. He paged through them carefully with gloved hands—a force of habit—as he memorized floorplans and exits, window placements and security cameras.

Breaking into the Saffron Prince of Mars’ estate would be a challenge, no doubt, but Peter was sure he could handle it. Though he’d never had homework to worry about before, he realized. Or Juno Steel.

Something deep within him glowed at that thought.

With a particularly large gust of sand on the dome above his small rented apartment on the edge of Oldtown—two or three streets over from what one might call a respectable part of town on a good day—the lights flickered. Peter frowned, still tracing his fingers over the prints. He had a narrow window to pull this job, he knew. His employer hadn’t been pleased with the late acquisition of the Mask; had delayed his anonymous wire payment until a few days after he called confirming that _it_ _was, in fact in his possession, thank you very much_.

Peter sincerely hoped that the six analog and four electronic locks on his door were good enough, because the Death Mask of Grimpotheuthis was sitting in a satin-lined box underneath his vaguely uncomfortable bed. Peter wagered it would stay there for at least another week, until his employer had the chance to come to Hyperion City.

When they had last spoken, over a static-filled connection of the burner comms Peter had picked up seventeen miles out of Olympus Mons, she had insisted in a raspy voice that _she_ _must be there in person for the exchange; no exceptions._

After a helpful reminder of his contract, she had made an exception for Peter, though with much grumbling.

There were exactly three things Peter Nureyev never did on a job: met face-to-face with the person paying his bills, took pictures or records of himself, nor revealed his true name. Everything else—and he meant _everything else_ —was on the table. Murder, sex, impersonation, forgery, drugs, theft. If they asked, Peter would deliver any job, anywhere, for a set price.

Peter was committing the intricate air duct system to memory when the lights flickered a second time, and then went out entirely. His room was plunged into darkness, because for once, the neon lights of the city around him were gone. Oldtown was engulfed in the swirling sands coating the Hyperion dome, the electricity grid running through the city like a pulsing second heart covered in the thin film of the Martian desert.

With a sigh, Peter pulled a penlight out of his back pocket, Mag’s voice in his ear even as he fought to ignore it ( _lesson one of thieving: be prepared for anything_ ). Though all of his training was urging him to _keep at it, Peter, you need to know all of this forwards and backwards, frontways and inside-out,_ the prints could wait one night. The quiz the next day, however, could not.

The tall clock clicked in the corner, its face reading digits far too late in the night for a master thief with class in the morning. Shoving his tiredness and the way the blueprints had been blurring a little before his eyes away, Peter reached around the table to the chair desperately in need of a new seat and grabbed his Ancient Martian History textbook. He opened the book, spine cracking, to the chapter titled _Prehistoric Peoples and Artifacts_.

Peter needed to learn about the Egg of Purus regardless.


	4. wicked enough for a killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiz. Also featured: unprepardness, skin that doesn't quite fit, and the Egg of Purus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember that time I said I was going to update regularly? #yikes but we're here now! Here's the optimistic outlook: updates might happen every other week? Here's the realistic outlook: updates will happen whenever life isn't super busy.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me as I'm the Absolute Worst! (Also! Be sure you're registered to vote!)

The shrill bell sounded, marking the beginning of the class period as Juno slid into his seat in Ancient Martian History, breathing hard. He shook the remnants of last night’s dust storm off of his long coat, trying his best to ignore the glance Glass shot at him.

(The autumnal dust storm had passed overnight in a whirl of inky darkness and stinging sand. The newscasters down in Hyperion Central had said that the dust storm was on a much smaller scale than average and there was _no_ _possible way_ it could affect day-to-day life in Hyperion, but Juno knew by now that anything they said had to be taken with a grain of— _ahem_ —sand. The electricity was still out at their apartment, which meant that Juno’s alarm did not sound. Ben’s, on the other hand, most definitely had, and he certainly did not wake Juno up.)

“Took your time,” Glass murmured as their teacher headed to the front of the classroom.

Juno fought to control his breathing as he pulled out his notes. He had, in fact, just sprinted the last four blocks to the school after waking to a cold, empty home. “What’s it to you?” Juno shot back under his breath.

Glass inclined his head thoughtfully (Juno was not thinking about that slim jaw, that bobbing Adam’s apple, that hint of a smile on his lips. He was _not)_. “What’s so important that you can’t even come to class on time?”

A hot flash of anger shot through Juno. _Who did he think he was, anyway?_ “I do what I like, Glass, and if that’s not good enough for you then you can go—“

A full smirk crossed Glass’s lips. “And who you like, I suppose.”

Juno felt himself flush, and a shot of something deeper than anger locked far behind his ribs coursed through his chest. “That’s none of your—“

Glass leaned closer, conspiratorially, and dropped his voice so low that Juno had to strain to hear it. “And who, pray tell, might that be?”

Juno stopped breathing for a half-second.

At the front of the room, Mx. Kaitzen cleared their throat, beginning a lecture of some sorts, and Juno inhaled after one beat too many, feeling Glass’s heavy gaze. He wasn’t exactly paying too close of attention to the teacher. Sue him. His heart was still pounding at Glass’s words.

He ignored their teacher and the collective groans of his classmates as they put away notes and tablets and faced Glass’s smirking, all-knowing face. “If you think you can—“

“Mr. Steel,” said the flat voice of Mx. Kaitzen, and their voice was suddenly much closer than Juno remembered. Swallowing hard, trying to forget Glass’s stare, his lips, his _teeth_ , Juno turned in his seat. In front of him stood their sometimes imposing (but today, _definitely_ imposing) teacher.

_Shit._

“Sir?” Juno asked, shrinking back imperceptibly as he looked up. Mx. Kaitzen had crossed their arms and had this look in their eye, one that Juno had seen too many times before from Ma. Underneath his desk, his fingernails bit into his palms—his hands were not shaking, they were not ( _they can’t do anything to do you here and now, not with the whole class staring, but what if they did; you deserve it, don’t you, little monster?_ ). “Did I do something wr—“

 “I asked you to clear your desk,” they continued. “We cannot begin the quiz until then.”

 _Goddamn, the quiz._ Juno felt the color rise hot and pink on his cheeks. “Right,” he said, biting his tongue, and hurriedly shoved his battered notebook back in his backpack.

“Glad you could join us, Mr. Steel,” Mx. Kaitzen said, turning back to the front of the class, and Juno’s heart could rest easy.

As Mx. Kaitzen passed out stacks of quizzes to the front of the room, Juno could feel Glass’s eyes on him, piercing and questioning and as sharp as the blade of a plasma cutter. Staring into Juno with the same intensity that Glass gave everything, it seemed. Effortless but directed, all at once. Glass branded a thousand questions into his gaze. Juno tried his best to lock away from that bright, burning sensation that rose behind his sternum at the feel of it, tried to hide that desire to answer every one of Glass’s questions, to lay his heart out before him, bloody and open on the cracking plastic of his desk to be cut and damaged and bruised and made whole all over again.

Glass leaned over to Juno’s desk, quiz in hand. “Good luck, Juno.”

“Don’t need it,” Juno muttered, taking the stack from Glass’s outstretched hands. Somehow, he avoided brushing fingers with him, but it was a near thing.

Glass smirked, that same sharp, tight-lipped smile (Juno nearly searched for a knife to cut out his heart then and there). “Never turn down good luck, Juno. You’ll never know when you might need it.”

Mx. Kaitzen cleared their throat. “You have fifteen minutes, starting now.”

Thirty papers flipped over, a timer clicked on, and Juno stared at the text and quite suddenly realized he knew absolutely nothing.

_Describe, in detail, one of the ancient Martian artifacts we have discussed so far in class. Please discuss its purpose, the circumstances surrounding its discovery, and its current status (i.e. has it been lost or stolen?)._

Sure, and Juno just as likely to know that as he was next in line for the throne of Europa.

He stared _hard_ at the paper, trying to remember, twiddling his pencil between his fingers until the girl in the desk ahead glared at him. There was that pill, right? Or a syringe of ancient Martian diseases? Or the Death Mask of—

Oh. _Oh_. There was a _very_ good reason he didn’t remember that lesson.

Juno noticed people. He had always been observant, even though Ma had reminded him time and time again that _noticing isn’t becoming of a little monster, now is it?_ Had noticed the slow but steady decline in the state of their home, in the state of his grades and the frequency of the storms over his head and how often red handprints appeared on his cheek. Had noticed Sasha holding herself just a little higher after Dark Matters training, like she was better than the dusty streets of Oldtown, had noticed Benten’s joy at meeting new friends, had noticed Glass.

He most certainly had seen Glass.

There was a way he sat, Juno noticed as he snuck glances, his gaze drifting from his quiz to trace the outlines of that jacket over Glass’s lean shoulders, to run down his sleeves and wrists. Perched on the edge of his seat, Rex Glass was. Ready to bolt at any moment, adrenaline primed and pulsing through the veins that spidered through his hands and neck. Entirely at ease in his body, every movement—every adjustment of his paper, every time the tip of his pen met his lips thoughtfully—measured and even.

And then, there it was. That glimmer of…other, just below the surface. His cologne—otherworldly, like nothing Juno had ever smelled before. His clothes passed for the slums just like any of Juno’s, but the stitching, the colors, the fabric were something else. His smile, just then touching his lips that Juno so wanted to kiss, was knife-sharp. Sharp enough to get away with far more trouble than Juno could imagine; wicked enough to pass for a murderer.

And there was a shiftiness about him, Juno realized. Like he was shadow-touched. Like something about Rex Glass didn’t quite fit right in the skin he wore.

“Five minutes remaining,” called Mx. Kaitzen to the class.

Juno started. He stared at his quiz, saw that it was blank, and glanced over to Glass’s scrawl-filled paper.

All right, Juno decided with a sharp breath. It looked like he was about to become intimately acquainted with whatever the hell the Egg of Purus was.

He wrote quickly and concisely, stealing glances off Glass’s essay as often as he dared. Jotted down obscure phrases like _onboard the Utgard Express_ and _the final resting place_ and _the greatest weapon ever wielded_. Somehow came up with a semi-coherent essay on the Egg of Purus, even though he still had no goddamn idea what it was.

Hell, it wasn’t like Juno had ever passed a test without cheating.

“Time!” announced Mx. Kaitzen, and Juno set down his pencil, stretching his cramping hand. “Please pass your quizzes to the front of the class.”

Juno picked up his paper, reaching forward to pass it up, when a cool hand gripped his wrist. Hard. He pulled away on reflex, but the hand held fast. Juno looked up.

Glass pulled him close across the narrow space between their desks, hissing low and soft. “Do we have a problem, Juno?”

Juno swallowed, staring. Glass’s face was inches away from Juno’s. He looked at Juno down his long nose, through his eyelashes and his horn-rimmed glasses. His sharp shark’s smile was on full display and if eyes were the window to the soul, Juno was getting a front row seat.

He was close enough to kiss and looked twice as likely to kill.

Goddamn, if that didn’t make Juno want to kiss him more.

“No, we don’t,” Juno murmured. _A different kind of problem, sure, but not that one._

 _“_ You don’t sound so sure,” Glass said, his voice as faint as starlight through the blue-tinged dome, at the same time Mx. Kaitzen began the lecture.

“We’re going to continue our lesson on terraforming and ancient Martian agriculture,” they announced, their voice seeming far in the distance to Juno, like the intercom of an old subway car or one of Ma’s shouted conversations three rooms down, because, well…

All of his senses were zeroed in on Rex Glass.

The way his chest rose and fell, that overwhelming not-quite-citrus-flower, not-quite-Martian scent of his cologne, that intense calculation flickering behind his eyes. The strength in the hand that gripped Juno’s wrist; the way Juno found he couldn’t quite form words in the way he wanted to.

“You want me to be sure?” Juno breathed, and he swore Glass twitched at his words. Swore he saw his lips make the beginning of his name, swore he saw the outline of _oh, Juno_ , etched into Glass’s features. “Then get your goddamn hand off me.”

Glass presses his lips together, leaving only the ghost of what was left unsaid in the air, and released his grip. His gaze narrowed into a slight frown for a brief moment before he turned to face the front of the class, the model of a perfect student once more.

Juno exhaled. _Damn it all_. This really _was_ going to be a difficult semester, wasn’t it?

* * *

Thirty-seven agonizing minutes later, in which Juno took seven lines of notes, doodled on the margins of his paper, wished Mick hadn’t already failed the class, tried valiantly not to sneak a glance or three at Glass, picked his brain for the best way to come up with a few spare creds to bribe their landlord to get their electricity fixed, realized it was probably for the best that Mick had failed the class so he wouldn’t go and tell the whole goddamn neighborhood about whatever _this_ was, and blatantly thought far, _far_ too much about Rex Glass’s cologne, Mx. Kaitzen finished their lecture.

 “That’s where we’re going to stop today,” their teacher said cheerfully at the end of class, and Juno’s classmates began to pack up. “But, before you go, one last thing. If you were really uncertain about any artifact, or if you wanted to know more about one but couldn’t find any information in the library, I have some good news for you. Next week, we’re starting some long-term projects to delve deeper into these artifacts. And surprise! You’re going to be paired into small groups based on the subject of your essay today.”

 _Well, shit._ The Egg of Purus had better be a really interesting goddamn artifact. 

“Additionally,” Mx. Kaitzen continued over the low din of backpacks zipping and notebooks folding shut. Juno shoved his own into his bag quickly. “To give you all some new insights, we’ll be having a guest speaker in class this semester! Professor Miasma from Olympus U will be visiting our classroom to provide valuable advice and to answer any question you’ll inevitably have. See you all tomorrow!”

Juno stole a look at Glass. He was staring straight ahead at the teacher, pen not moving, not packing up. Frozen. Still as stone in a sea of movement.

Juno cleared his throat, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder as the class dispersed. “So,” he began, faltering.

Glass blinked, turning. “Oh, Juno,” he said, and Glass still said his name like every syllable was a decadent gift, and Juno still melted a little into his shoes every time. “Looks like we’re going to be partners.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Juno shot back, making to move, regretting engaging in conversation ( _but did he really?_ ).

A hint of that sharp smile behind his lips once more as he stood in a swift motion, delicately placing his notebook and pen into one of his deep pockets. The pair made their way to the door, picking through the poorly-crafted desks. “Was this how you—how did you put it—cheat the system, Juno?”

Juno crossed his arms, a flash of anger surging through him. Yeah, he maybe cheated a little, but so what? “Why the hell do you care, Glass?”

“Oh, no reason,” Glass said, tossing a wink casually at Juno, like he hadn’t a care in the world and like he didn’t know what that did to Juno, didn’t see that flush that rose in his cheeks. “I just didn’t know the class had already covered the Egg of Purus. It’s quite advanced stuff, you know.”

Juno scoffed. “I don’t see why this is relevant.”

“Lying is no basis for beginning a relationship, Juno,” said Glass conspiratorially, and Juno’s heart jumped in his chest. “A _working_ relationship, of course. Because even on the off chance that someone else wrote about the Egg of Purus in our class, we’ll still have to see each other every day, my detective.”

“I—I’m not a detective,” Juno spluttered, and locked up his dreams just a little tighter with every word.

“You certainly noticed my quiz with enough ease.”

A lively voice broke through. “Hey, Glass!”

Juno tore his eyes away from Glass’s face and found his double. “Thanks for waking me up today, asshole.”

Ben laughed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t charge your alarm, Super Steel! I did wake you up but I figured it was better to dodge your right hook then to make sure you stayed awake.” He turned to Glass as Juno glowered at his twin. “I still haven’t seen that flip yet. You ready for Movement?”

Glass’s expression had brightened considerably since Ben’s arrival; Juno’s mood was on an inverted course because of _course_ they were actually friends. Mr. Galaxy’s Best Smile and all that. “I wasn’t about to do parkour in the lunchroom.”

Ben’s lower lip stuck out. “You totally could have! The lunch aides weren’t looking.”

“What,” Juno deadpanned, staring at his brother. “You actually ate lunch _there_?”

That same brilliant smile was back. “Yeah, I told you we were going to! And it was still stormy out, so it was either here or in the back of the mezzanine.”

Glass shuddered at the thought. “I’d like to keep my head, thanks.”

“Hey,” Juno protested. “The mezzanine isn’t so bad.”

“Just because you and Mick sometimes eat there doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who hang out there who could definitely slit your throat,” Ben shot back, and Juno glowered. “Just saying, Super Steel!”

Juno bit down on his retort, that _maybe that was why he ate there_ , that _he’d had a few good times, of fights, of stolen kisses with boys and girls that punched him straight after_ , that _his good memories were few and far between_ , and said instead, “The food in the cafeteria isn’t edible by half.”

“No, but the company’s good,” Ben retorted. Juno felt the flush spread across his cheeks. Oh, he knew. “Way better than you. Hey, you can’t even make it to class on time!”

Juno bristled, curling his hands around his backpack straps. “You were no goddamn help.”

“Don’t go and blame me, Super—”

“Stop giving him such a hard time, Ben,” Glass said, cutting across their halfhearted banter gently. Juno breathed a sigh of not-quite relief, but it was close. “I’m sure it’s been a rough—”

“Nah,” Ben said cheerfully. He clapped a hand across Juno’s shoulders; Juno grumbled in response. “He knows I don’t mean it.”

“—day if he had to cheat off my quiz in History,” Glass continued, with that same conspiratorial grin sneaking across his face, and _goddamn_ Juno wanted to punch it off him.

Shock—but Juno knew that expression well enough to know it was faked; had seen it on his own face twice as often—crossed Ben’s face. “You _what_.”

“I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Juno hissed under his breath, voice dropping as a teacher walked by.

Ben matched Juno’s tone. “It’s hardly the first time, Juno.”

“You don’t know anything about my—”

“What would Ma say?” Ben retorted, and that was _low_. That took the breath from Juno’s lungs, because he knew _exactly_ how she would react.

Juno’s fingernails cut into his palms for the second time that day. “You know as well as I do that she wouldn’t—”

The warning bell rang, cutting Juno off with a start.

“Let’s get to class,” Glass said quietly, after a beat, eyes darting between the two brothers.

“On second thought,” Juno announced with forced cheer through gritted teeth. “I don’t think I need to.”

“ _Juno_ ,” said his brother, regret filling his voice, that same bottom lip poking out. “You know I didn’t mean—”

“You never do,” Juno replied shortly, and turned on his heel, tattered coat billowing behind him, making for the door. There was no goddamn way he could sit through Mythology.

* * *

The autumn air was biting when Juno stalked outside the school. As he turned up his collar, Juno squeezed his eyelids tight for a moment, blocking out the memory Ben’s pleading face. Trying to let the fight drain out of him, to let it roll off the way Sasha had taught him all those months ago, but it was in his bones like a cold he couldn’t quite shake.

There was a permanence to that particular emotion.

Anger held fast to Juno Steel in the most eternal way, it seemed. In the same way that he wanted to kiss that smirk off Glass’s face and in the same way that corruption was deep in the heart of Hyperion City. In the fashion of all the bright stars orbiting in the sky, in the way Sarah Steel was embedded in his veins and in every bloodied knuckle and angry glare, in the way he hated himself.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tucked his chin into his jacket as Oldtown High became a blue-tinged shadow in the distance for the second time in as many days. He just needed some space. Needed some time to heavily regret his actions.

Juno made it halfway to his abandoned alleyway—halfway to his key to freedom from his upbringing, from this town, from Ma—before he realized he had spent the last shots of his blaster card. Before he realized he had hadn’t bought a secondhand one off the dealer in the abandoned subway and before he remembered he had shoved an old blaster card under the floorboards beneath his bed.

Swearing a blue streak under his breath and shooting a glare at the first person who looked his way, he turned around. Fished his keys from his pocket and a half-eaten protein bar from his backpack to satiate his growing hunger, and headed home.

No, not _home_ , per se. That _place_ was never going to be _home_ again _._ Not anymore, at least _;_ hadn’t been since Juno was four years old. How could it be? A home should have stories told around a fire and fresh-baked cookies and hugs ( _god, it had been so long since he had been held as though by a mother_ ), not palm-shaped bruises and cold hearts and a brotherhood forged by steel. He’d bet five creds he didn’t have on that. His _home_ in every other sense of the word—his reflection, his better half—was probably dancing through the hallways. Flipping off bars and pirouetting in class with a certain boy Juno really needed not to think about.

His feet had carried him too quickly to their apartment. With a flick of his wrist, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, and froze.

She wasn’t supposed to be home.

“Well, you’re certainly early,” Sarah Steel said with a thin smile.

She was never home.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class or whatever the hell it is you do during the day?” she asked, her voice filled with false concern, flipping something over and over in her hands. Something that glinted dully in the sand-filtered light coming in through the window. Something Juno never wanted to see in Ma’s hands. “Well, Juno?”

 _Goddamnit_.

Juno didn’t meet her eyes. “I forgot something.” _Well, it wasn’t a lie_.

The object twirled dangerously in her hands. “What, your homework? Can’t even remember that, can you?”

“I’ll be gone in a sec,” he said, stepping forward.

“You know something, Juno,” she began, and Juno froze in the doorway for the second time. “I felt like cleaning today.”

“You, in the autumn cleaning mood?” he shot out, unable to stop the words from coming. Her lessons had never worn in.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Listen, Juno. You never _listen_ ,” she said sharply, and he stilled, watching the object in her hands. “I found something quite curious today. You want to tell me what I found?”

“I don’t know what the hell you mean,” he retorted. His hands curled into fists, his body tensing. Waiting for the blow to fall.

She clicked her tongue at him. “Language, little monster. We don’t use that kind of language in my house, now do we?”

Finally, he met her eyes. “I just have to get something.”

“Always in such a hurry,” Sarah said, shaking her head. Juno felt shame rise over his ears. _She was right_. “I was doing some cleaning, and I came across this,” she continued, and held out the object in her hands for Juno’s appraisal. “In your room, no doubt about it!”

Juno swallowed roughly. “That’s not mine.”

“You can’t even own up to your own mistakes, Juno. What a pity,” she shot back. Sarah flipped it in her hands one last time. “What does this button do, do you think?” She raised it at Juno. Clicked the switch. “Hmm? I know it’s yours, Juno. Don’t lie to me, little monster. Tell me what this does.”

Juno had always told Ben that one of these days, Ma would do something really goddamn stupid, and one of them would get hurt. A kind of hurt that band-aids and a bag of cloned peas wouldn’t cure. Her moods swung too heavily, her drinking got deeper the colder it got, for something _not_ to happen.

Better it was Juno than Ben.

“I won’t repeat myself,” his mother said sharply.

“You took the safety off,” Juno answered softly, staring down the barrel of the blaster, its indicator light switched from red to green.

Ma smiled. “That’s right, Juno.”

He hated himself for it, but something in him glowed at her praise.

With a little laugh, Sarah clicked the safety back on. Tossed the blaster on the worn coffee table in the center of the room, where it scattered feebly between half-empty bottles. Juno hadn’t realized how hard his heart had been beating in his chest until the gun left her hands.

“I’ll get out,” Juno said with a deep breath. He pressed forward again, making for his and Ben’s room.

Sarah grabbed his arm as he passed, digging her hand deep into his arm, leaving a purple five-fingered shadow in her wake. Dragging him roughly around with a hidden strength to face her once more.

“Now, Juno,” she said, her voice a sickly-sweet mockery of the mother Juno used to know. “As a good mother, I cannot condone lying in my house.”

 _A good mother? Ha_. “I didn’t—”

A sharp crack whipped across Juno’s cheek, Sarah’s ring—a present from Northstar all those years ago, back before everything—cutting into his skin. “What did I just say, little monster? You are a _liar_ , and I cannot have that in my house.”

“It wasn’t mine,” Juno all but growled.

“The blaster?” she said with that tinkling laugh. “Oh, no. I picked that up a few weeks ago. You can never be too careful in Oldtown.”

Juno waited for a half-moment, waiting for her to finish, watching her laughing eyes, before he begrudgingly asked when it became evident he would have to confess to whatever crime she thought he had committed, “then what?”

The cobra in front of him curled around his words. “What I found in your room? You can’t remember, Juno?”

“You used to respect our space,” Juno said defensively, biding time as his mind whirled, as the fight that never quite left his bones built up again. _What could she have found?_ The shitty alcohol he kept under his mattress? The disciplinary notes he never gave to her? That one essay he actually did well on, that he was actually proud of, that he tucked between the wooden slats of Ben’s bed?

“Your space? That isn’t yours, Juno,” she continued, the sweetness all gone. “You should be grateful to even _have_ it. I’m sure some of your classmates have even less—”

Juno was shaking. “I didn’t ask for _this_.”

Sarah raised her hand again. Juno flinched, pulling back, but the cobra struck anyway.

That same thin smile crept across her face as she grabbed his collar and pulled him so close he could see the flecks of amber in her eyes, could taste the alcohol on her breath. “You _did_ ask for this, little monster, when you gave _everything_ away just because somebody said _please_.”

Juno opened his mouth to protest that same old story, but she shoved him. Hard. Away from her.

He stumbled, trying to catch his balance.

The wall was somehow closer than he remembered. With a sickening crack, the back of his head connected with the corner of a picture frame.

Sarah leaned over him as he folded in on himself, that splitting headache beginning, his cheek aching. “I won’t have a liar in my house. Tell me what I found, Juno.”

 _Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t_.

“A blaster card,” he finally breathed, and Sarah leaned away from Juno for the first time, satisfaction written all over her face.

“See? Telling the truth. That wasn’t so hard, now was it, little monster?” she said, turning her back on him. “You better keep that up, Juno. We wouldn’t want that same corruption to leach into Benzaiten.”

With the soft click of her heels, she left Juno behind.

He listened for the click of her office door before he moved. Took that trusty bag of cloned peas from the freezer, stole a bandage and a handful of creds stashed away in the cupboard under the sink, and slipped out the door.

Juno needed to forget, goddamnit, and he couldn’t think of a better way than the sewers.


End file.
